


What Are Friends For?

by Inky_Scribbles



Series: Squad: PWND [2]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, Dick is smart, Gen, Just realised I didn't put this in the series?, Oblivious Peter, Peter is too but he won't admit it, Poor Peter, Stretching, Unreliable Narrator, Webbing, but just in case, he has no idea, its not explicit or anyhing, kind of, mention of Barbara - Freeform, mention of Ned, more just nervousness, no editing, the struggles of a spiderling, webs, whoops...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 07:26:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15836556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inky_Scribbles/pseuds/Inky_Scribbles
Summary: "Of course. Obviously, this would happen to him. As if somehow randomly being able to stick to objects wasn't enough (although he suspected that the newly-grown hairs on his palms and the bottoms of his feet had something to do with it), he also had to be able to shoot sticky white stuff from his wrists. Obviously."Peter is probably going to need Dick's help for this.





	What Are Friends For?

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: What Peter experiences here could be interpreted as anxiety. It's not obvious, I don't think, but be safe, everyone!

Of course. Obviously, this would happen to him. As if somehow randomly being able to stick to objects wasn't enough (although he suspected that the newly-grown hairs on his palms and the bottoms of his feet had something to do with it), he also had to be able to shoot sticky white stuff from his wrists. Obviously.

He prodded at the stringy substance (which bended to his touch, but otherwise held firm), attached to just about where his palm began. The other end was conveniently stuck to his physics textbook. Woo. Fun times.

He sighed, rubbing his forehead as he thought. When he tugged at one end, the... web? (He was really starting to suspect that spider bite from a few weeks back) only continued to come out. It felt a bit like a muscle in his forearm was clenched, but he couldn't figure out where. He hadn't thought he could clench a muscle there. Anyway, logically, if he could figure out how to unclench that muscle, maybe the "webbing" would stop coming out? Maybe. Worth a shot. Hopefully it would work before lunch ended.

Oh, right. Lunch. He was in the library. Where people hung out. He took a careful glance around the place, eyeing everyone just in case someone noticed. Even Ned. But Ned was deeply absorbed with his Spanish verbs, so he was probably too busy to notice. Luckily. He probably shouldn't push that luck, though.

He closed his book carefully around his hand, hiding it between the pages. Hopefully no one would notice the awkward angle he was holding it at. For good measure, he held it behind his back, cursing the school uniform's lack of decently sized pockets.

"Hey, Ned?" He whispered, eying the librarian, who was nice, but absolutely despised anything but totally eclipsing silence on Thursdays. Ned nodded, but kept looking at his book as if they weren't having a conversation right now, no, not at all, Miss. "I'm going to the toilet. See you in class?"

Ned glanced up and waved under the table, grinning. Peter grinned back and grabbed his bag, slipping out of the library without much trouble. The hallway was mostly empty, because the only thing in this area of school was the library and the people around for that were there right now. Keeping a wary eye on the shadowy corners of the corridor, he attempted to get to the closest bathroom as quickly as possible.

Unfortunately for him, the closest bathroom was also just passed the cafeteria, which, at this time, was probably still packed with late lunchers. Was it worth it to go to the bathroom passed the Drama room, where all the hippies hung out and half the toilets were filled with kids making out? Under normal circumstances, Peter wouldn't have considered it (he'd rather not have to figure this thing out while listening to horny teenagers and probably bad pop music), but the less people who saw him hanging out weirdly with a physics textbook, the better, honestly. It would explain any sticky stuff left behind, too.

Groaning a short oh God to the lockers, he turned on his heel and headed to the hippie toilets. With any luck, they'd all be high on crack by the time he got there.

It was in this truly incredible state of mind that Peter encountered Dick. That is, Dick Grayson. As in, not only the charge of billionaire Bruce Wayne, but also quite possibly the smartest guy in the entire school and chick magnet extraordinaire (at least, according to to the grapevine). 

But maybe the grapevine was right, (for once) because next to Dick was a pretty older redhead, who Peter recognised as the police commissioner's daughter. Betty Gordon, or something. 

It took all of two seconds for a (really, it was impressive) stupid idea to come to mind and sit there. Did he really need to interact with the only guy who knew he had superpowers— outside of himself, that is? No, was the answer. No, he did not. The _literal_ only upside to that idea would be that he was probably smart enough to work his powers out faster than he was.

Still, his brain had other plans, apparently, because before he knew it, the words had left his mouth— "Hey, Dick! Can you help me out for a second?" — and they were both on their way to the hippie bathrooms, because Dick was nice like that. Glorious. The commissioner's daughter, ("Babs", apparently) eyed them as they left, no doubt wondering where it was they'd met and what Peter might need him for. And they were heading to the hippie toilets, where people smoked crack and made out in the stalls. Nope, this was more than glorious. Truly... It was _majestic_.

Hopefully no one would question it. Or send word to the gossip blogs. He _really_ hoped they wouldn't send anything to the gossip blogs. Dear God.

But Dick didn't question him, even when Peter locked them both in a tiny (but spacious for a toilet) stall. The bathroom was uncomfortably clean, for Peter, so he usually tried to avoid them (this kind of stall would be covered in piss and vomit, had he been in New York), but it was necessary this time.

Fortunately, (as expected), everyone in the bathroom were higher than kites, and probably wouldn't understood a word they said, but Peter kept his voice down anyway. "Look... you know that thing we talked about a couple days ago?" The only thing they'd ever spoken about was two days ago, so he hoped Dick did. He didn't pause for much of an answer. "Well..."

The pages stuck to the web were sealed closed, and Dick really didn't want to risk tearing them, so he gently peeled away the ones unaffected, so that Dick could see better. Dick made a curious sound, poking at the pages, but not the actual webbing. Smart move. It would be awkward to explain why they had to hold hands all the time. "I think I've started making some kind of... spider web. And I can't turn it off," he pulled at the webbing near his wrist for emphasis, letting it hang loosely.

"Woah." Dick seemed quite enthralled, carefully tapping at the area around his wrist where the string cane out. "How did this happen?"

Peter shrugged, helpless. "I don't know. It just... came out. It's like I accidentally turned on a muscle and I can't turn it off again."

"Huh." Dick considered his arm for a moment, then shot a grin at Peter. "Nice terminology."

Despite himself, Peter laughed. "Thanks. I try."

Dick smiled, which was a lot different to his grin, Peter found, brief as it was before Dick turned away again. "Anyway. So, have you tried flexing it, or something?"

Peter nodded, examining his arm too, trying to find anything he might have missed. There probably wasn't anything, but it never hurt to double check. "Yeah, I tried most things I could think of, but it just wouldn't stop coming. And I couldn't cut it or anything, either. Not that I used scissors. But anything that touches it gets stuck to it."

To prove it, Peter poked it with an elastic band. "Weird."

They were both quiet for a moment, thinking. Well, Dick was probably thinking— Peter was cringing at the obnoxious lip-smacking coming from the next stall over. And— was that _Jessica Mallory?_ Holy crow—

"But not your arm, right?" The question was so sudden, Peter was a lot certain that he'd missed something, or he'd zoned out a little too far, and it must have shown on his face, because Dick gave an apologetic look. "Sorry, I mean it doesn't stick to your arm, right? You can touch it?"

Peter nodded, frowning. He'd thought of that, too, but it didn't seem to be of much use right now. If he pulled at it, more just came out. But that wasn't what Dick continued with. "Do you think you can run out? Like, come to the end of the string?"

Peter thought about it. It could happen, but would they have the time before lunch ended? Would there be space in the stall? Not to say that he was holding all that much of it in his body, but you never know. It wasn't as though he was all that experienced with his powers just yet. "Maybe," He shifted, considering. "Never really thought about it." Not that he'd had long to have think about it at all. Like, at _all_.

"Well, why don't you try?"  
And so Peter did. He tugged at the seemingly never ending flow of web. It didn't feel that bad, actually. He expected it to feel more like a particularly long needle coming out of his arm, but it was kind of relaxing, actually. Like it was meant to come out. Weird.

There was a huge, questionable pile of white gack on the floor by the end of it. And he still had not run out of webs. They both stared at it for a while. This time they weren't really thinking, more just feeling a little bit disgusted. His body could make this stuff?

"So... What now?"

Dick shrugged. "Well, how did you get it to start in the first place?"

Peter thought back. He hadn't thought he'd done anything, but they were kind of running out of time, and now as well as being attached to a physics book, he was also attached to a large pile of cobweb. Which was probably also stuck to the floor. Ugh.

"Well, I was studying for the exam coming up. I went to turn the page, and then it just... came out." He tried to remember more than that, but it was a little hazy with the panic of seeing sticky string come out of his wrist. He was pretty sure Ned had asked him something just before he turned it, but he was kind of absorbed in the chapter. It wasn't as though they both didn't do exactly that on a regular basis.

"Right. So you turned the page." Dick double checked the one still propped in between Peter's fingers, and evidently found nothing, because he sighed and scratched his head. "It doesn't seem any different, and you've probably read books since you got your powers, right?" Peter nodded. "So it can't be that. What did you do that was different, then?"

It was said more to himself than to Peter, which struck him as a little odd, if he was being honest. He didn't really have to put this much effort into figuring it out. Worst case scenario, all he has to do is go home until it wears out, or something. Can it wear out? They kind of already established that he has very large reserves of this stuff, at least, so...

"Oh!" He suddenly realised. "If it's a muscle, don't we just have to get it to relax?"

Dick looked at him questioningly. "Yes? But didn't we already go over that?"

"Well, yeah," he felt his lips twist in a way that meant he was smiling awkwardly. Ew. He tried to reign it in, avoiding looking at Dick. "But there are ways we can get muscles to relax, right?"

Dick's eyebrows furrowed. "Are you suggesting drugs, or—"

"No!" He slapped a hand over his mouth, shooting a glance at the thin wall that separated them from the snogging kids in the next stall over. Quieter, he continued. "No, no. I mean like hypnotism and stuff. What about massages?" At Dick's blank expression, Peter squirmed. "Or stretches, maybe?" That was a little too strained for his liking. Whoops.

But to his surprise, Dick seemed quite fond of the idea. "Stretches?"  
Peter nodded, uncertainly. What, is Dick some kind of secret pretzel-man? "I think I can teach you a few." His smirk was confident enough that Peter felt a little less nervous about the almost excited air that had ignited around him. He had never exactly been... The most flexible around.

"I can't believe I didn't think of this before— here," and just like that, Peter's arms were suddenly folded around each other in some kind of elaborate twisty.... Twist. Wow, ow, ow, ow. That hurt.

"Ow..." he whined, even though it wasn't actually that bad, he just felt like making a point.

But Dick's excitement had only increased, which was... A little alarming, actually. He was in _pain_. "Wow, have you done this before? This is incredible for a first timer," he was muttering, but Dick was at his back, so Peter couldn't see him, other than that. He pictured star-dazzled eyes and felt at least a little better.

"Nope," he groaned, itching to pull his arms from Dick and cradle them to himself. Dick being amazed at him was a nice feeling (him, Peter Parker! The most normal dude in town), but he was starting to feel somewhat self conscious about his arms. It wasn't as though he had a particular thing about them, he just didn't like the feel of someone touching them. "Never done this before. Could be the... Extra stuff?" He didn't really want to say "powers" out loud. 

"Maybe," Dick seemed to understand anyway.

And it was then that Peter felt something shift inside. Like he had suddenly reached the level at which his arm had stretched far enough, because all of a sudden something clicked shut, almost. Like cracking a knuckle back into place. "Hey, hang on, I think that did it."

So they test it out, Peter tugging at the string of web. To his surprise, even though he sort of knew it was coming, it was plucked neatly from his forearm without any struggle at all. The only thing left was a slightly raw patch of skin and a small scab. "Woah." He said. Then, to Dick, "Thanks. Don't think I could have done it without you."

Dick grinned. "No problem." Then he turned thoughtful. "Hey, we should probably start working on figuring out your "extra stuff"." He gave a wry smirk. "We don't want you to suddenly find out you have laser eyes and accidentally scorch someone, after all."

Peter felt a surge of relief. Knowing that he didn't have to do it alone felt nice, (and left him a little light-headed). "Sure. Thanks. Again, that is, and for this. You don't have to..."

Dick's smile this time was the sunny kind; the type you can't help but return. Peter got the feeling that Dick didn't give those out as often as he perhaps should, (with the way it made his eyes crinkle and his cheeks shine), so he beamed a smile right back.

"Hey, what are friends for?"

And it was as easy as that.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, Peter has no idea, does he? He's standing right next to a literal acrobat. 
> 
> Just to be clear! This is purely gen. Anything that looks like shipping... Is not shipping. It's just Pete being a nervous wreck. I honestly didn't mean for it to come out that way, but honestly? Same.
> 
> Fun fact! I was originally going to have the webs appear because Peter cracked his knuckles nervously while talking with Dick. And it'd just splat. On the floor. Between em. And so on.


End file.
